


Kill Me Softly

by LittleBlueArtist



Series: Killing Stalking Sin [1]
Category: Killing Stalking
Genre: Abuse, Kidnapping, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:52:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBlueArtist/pseuds/LittleBlueArtist
Summary: The price of freedom is losing the one he loves. The price of love is losing the outside world. The price of living is watching others die. Everything has a price, but Yoon Bum doesn't know if he's willing to pay.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Ysa!!! Thank you for being so amazing and meme streaming with me. I hope you had a wonderful day and this fic is everything you want it to be. Can't wait to chill with u at CAD fam. (Also for Jas, who conspired with Ysa to get me invested in not one, but two, messed up webcomic fandoms).
> 
> General notes: Spoilers!! Events in this fic take place after chapter 2 of Killing Stalking!
> 
> Update: Wow! I really didn't expect this fic to get popular at all. It's nice to know that I'm not the only sinner out there~

Yoon Bum tugs on the fabric of the skirt. It's starting to tear on the bottom from use. How long had it been now? Days? Weeks? Besides the glowing numbers of the radio clock, he didn't know how much time had passed. Was it a Wednesday? Thursday? Was he still in the same month? The only time he could guess was four weeks, since his legs were starting to get stronger. 

He could hear the faucet's water hitting the bottom of the sink, but he didn't register it. He kept looking at his skirt. This damn skirt. He always got a different shirt every week or so, one that smelled of Sangwoo's laundry detergent, despite where he got it from. As much as he wanted to cross the line, the smell of Sangwoo on him made him hesitate each time. Did he want to give this up? This small heaven amidst his hell?

The shirt he's wearing now is a little too small, even for him. It clings to his ribs, shows off his concave stomach. It was newer, barely any use. It must've come right off the rack. He gets new shirts, new bandages, new injuries, but always this damn green skirt. Is it a humiliation tactic? No, he knows it's not. 

This skirt means something to Sangwoo. Yoon thinks about it. He can see it all, now. The way he's washing dishes, cleaning, unable to look up to the man in his life. This was Sangwoo's mother's life, before he killed her. She lived a sad life with an abusive man, most likely forcing herself to stay for her only son. Look where that got her. This skirt might have been one of her only pieces of clothing.

The thought of ripping the skirt off makes a smile come to his face, but suddenly Sangwoo is _right there_ and the knife against his skin is so sharp that he can feel every piece of it. He can smell his shampoo. Something fruity. It smells good. He wants to lose himself in that smell, drown in it until he can never wake up, only think of when Sangwoo was a dream he couldn't ever make real. 

He feels the trickle of blood down his neck and Sangwoo's breath against his face. "You were going to take off my gift to you?" he says, voice hurt in a way that is also playful. It makes Yoon feels like an animal being toyed with before slaughter.

 _Thump. Thump. Thump_. His heart jackrabbits in his chest. He can't do it. This was a gift from Sangwoo. He has to treat it like he would any gift. People don't throw away gifts, right? Yes, right, they appreciate them, cherish them, thank the other person for thinking of them. He wipes his palms over his thighs, throat tight. "No! No, of course not," he smiles. It's strained. Scared. Just like him. "I was just thinking about h-how dirty it is. Can we wash it?"

Sangwoo smiles, but this time it's nice. It's soft and pleasant. Yoon Bum wants to get lost in it, in the way it makes the sun in his chest start shining again. This is why he stays, for the horror that is his love. "It is a little disgusting. Here, let me take care of it for you."

And just as fast as that smile was gentle it's deadly as Sangwoo rips the skirt off Yoon. It sends him flying to the floor, making his broken legs support his weight. He comes crashing down, eyes already welling with tears. He screams in pain, clawing at the floor. It's hardly a second before the fabric of the skirt is around his neck, choking him, killing him.

His palms slap against the kitchen floor weakly, barely making a noise. He calls out, voice squeaky, unable to make a better sound. "Please...stop..." he croaks out, limbs heavy, tongue swelling in his mouth until it feels like it might fall out.

"Do you appreciate my gift now, Bum?" Sangwoo snickers, pulling the green noose tighter. "Do you want to wash--"

The slam of the basement door startles Yoon. The air around him shifts, the pressure on his neck disappears. He takes a deep breath without realizing. The sink is almost overflowing, water rushing over the plates in it and trickling onto the top. He hurries to turn it off before a drop can hit the floor. Sangwoo would hurt him again. He has to be careful in the kitchen. There are so many things that can hurt him here. 

He hears the footsteps coming before he hears the other man's voice. It's velvet that wraps itself around his entire body, squeezes it like a python. "Get distracted?"

Yoon looks at the sink. There's a floating piece of last night's dinner. He still has to make it for tonight. He has two more hours to clean and cook before Sangwoo expects a meal. He has to sharpen the knives. He has to prep the green onion. He has to start making the broth for soup. He is still stuck in his chair. The floor is sturdy beneath his wheels. _This_ is real. He is here, in this kitchen, smelling the fruity scent of his captor's shampoo.

"Just thinking," he replies, voice shaky. He feels so weak, like no matter what he eats it doesn't help. He's so skinny now. His body couldn't make it more than two blocks if he tried. He is utterly dependent on Sangwoo. He loves this. He hates this. He wants Sangwoo's hand to crawl up to his neck, fingers strong and firm, hold him in place as he fucks him so hard he forgets his own name. He wants to stab Sangwoo until there's no more blood in the taller man's body. 

"I'm about to do some laundry. Do you want me to throw in that skirt? It's been awhile since I've washed it. You'll get a new shirt, too."

Yoon Bum looks in the laundry bin. It's dripping. He'll have to clean that. The red lands on the floor and seeps into the wood. He looks briefly at the clothes. They're big. A dress, maybe, or a large shirt. He had pretended not to hear the screams. He had pretended not to hear the girl begging for help, for him to save her. He pretended he didn't memorize how her blonde hair fell in waves, accentuating her deep brown eyes. He pretended he couldn't hear Sangwoo laughing as he cut her to pieces. 

"Yes, please," he replies quietly, letting the other man undress him. It feels good to have the fabric off his legs. The cold air washes over them. They look deathly pale. He hasn't walked in who knows how long. They'll be useless if he tries, even if his legs weren't broken. He'll have to learn again, let his muscles grow again. He's a child waiting to learn the secrets of the world on two legs. He want Sangwoo to break them again so he never has an excuse to leave. He wants them to be okay so he can run out that front door and never look back. 

The sound of the washing machine puts him back into motion. He has to clean. He has to cook. He has to make sure that smile on Sangwoo's face is always present. He hates to think of when it's the most bright, right after he comes up covered in a deep red. The way his hands leave stains on the sink, on Yoon's skin if he touches him. He hates to think that he would rather it be that girl Sangwoo is cutting into than him. He would sacrifice her in a second if it meant staying alive. He is a coward. He wants to live but wants so much to be free that he would die if it meant getting there, but for now, he waits. Sangwoo takes good enough care of him.

He feeds him, clothes him, gives him food. He is a good captor. They get to sleep together, in the same bed, under the same blanket. He gets to smell that fruity shampoo. He gets to eat at the normal table now. He can sit in his chair for most of the day, not going on the floor to clean it up. He only has to do that once a week. Sangwoo is good to him. He is good. Cleaning up blood and wearing a skirt is a small price to pay for how good Sangwoo is to him. He can stay here... He can stay, just for a little bit...

The radio clicks on. 

_Singing my life with his words..._

_Killing me softly with his song..._

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos/comments are greatly appreciated. Please support my friends!!! You can follow and find them on twitter [@seocyy](http://twitter.com/seocyy) and [@xjasdg](http://twitter.com/xjasdg)!!!!! For the sake of my sanity, I made yoon bum two names.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Kudos/comments are, as always, appreciated.


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